ABT 2013 - Mixed Repertory

Last night was the second ballet in my ABT subscription series - it was an evening of three short pieces: Mark Morris' Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes, Frederick Ashton's A Month in the Country, and Balanchine's Symphony in C.  Of the three, I believe I've only seen Symphony in C before, and that was ages ago.  I was definitely excited to see these three ballets.  Bear with me, though, because this will be a loooooooooooong post...

The weather was humid, but I was happy to make it to the Met between downpours.  I got there early enough to engage in my personal pre-show routine - photos, restroom, early in seat to read program to see who's dancing.  Once I got to my seat, I noticed a group of youngsters seated in my section in the balcony.  A few were in my row.  They were rambunctious, but I thought, oh good, young people at the ballet.  That can't be a bad thing.  It turns out this was a group of students from one of the local dance schools - I can only assume they were from the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis School, since they referred to many of the ABT dancers by first name.  But I can't be sure.  Anyway, yes, young people at the ballet CAN be a bad thing and these kids were the poster children of BAD.  They got on my bad side, quickly, by stating that my Julie should retire because she's old.  And slow.  Imagine my head exploding.  I almost missed the happiness of the beautiful chandeliers rising to the ceiling... 

I'll get back to them in a minute.  First, the wondrous dancing.  Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes, commissed by ABT in 1988, is upbeat and good-humored.  There are wonderful stage pictures formed, with twelve dancers constantly in motion.  There are moments that are textbook classical ballet, with moments of modern whimsy.  I really enjoyed the piece.  I especially liked that there was an onstage pianist, Barbara Bilach, who played the Virgil Thomson pieces with spontaneity and verve.  I liked how the music was arranged, with a natural build in energy, then, as the ballet was coming to an end, the music got slower, dreamier, the lights dimmed, and then it ended as it began.  Really lovely.  I just wonder - why are there always white costumes?!  They're terrible in my pictures!  ;) 

 

I thought all twelve dancers were terrific and especially enjoyed Joseph Gorak (if the blogs are to be believed) in the part originally danced by Baryshnikov.  He has a lovely airy quality to his dancing - he never seems rushed or forced.  His jumps and spins were clean and crisp and very in tune with the music.  I'm definitely going to keep my eye on him.  But all of the dancers were terrific, but because I didn't use my binoculars, I couldn't really tell who was who.  If I haven't seen a piece before, I don't use my binoculars, because I like to see how the choreography fits in the space.  Once I know a piece a little better, then I'll use the binoculars to see specific details.  Yet another of my dainty quirks.  I borrowed the photo at right from ABT's Facebook page - it was taken by Gene Schiavone and will, of course, take it down if asked.  My pictures are so terrible, I wanted something pretty to make up for them.

 

At the first intermission came the first indication that I was sitting next to bad children.  They immediately started shouting about how bad the dancing was in the previous piece.  I'm sorry, what?!  They began trying to replicate the dance moves that they found particularly egregious.  And one young moron decided that Morris is a bad choreographer.  Oh, really?!!  I beg to differ, young idiot.  I wanted to say something to them so badly, but didn't.  Grrrrr.  But just imagine, if you will, a twenty-minute intermission, filled with screaming teenagers, who know so much more about dancing than anyone else, trying to tear down their elders.  I did not find them charming, or filled with youthful exuberance, or anything like that.  I found them rather repellent.  Before the second piece started, the young moron cried, "I hope the next one is better!"  God help me.  Oh, and to top off the delight that were my seat neighbors, the gal on the other side of me was snoring.  She did wake up when we applauded the conductor, which reminds me of another travesty.  When the conductor came out, the repellent children of the d*mned had the nerve to say that the conductor didn't deserve the applause, that it was an antiquated ritual, and he wasn't actually really any good. Oh. my. god.  Well, yes, all that may actually be true, but SHUT UP.  Rituals do have their purposes at times.   Now imagine the steam coming out of my ears. I had to breathe deeply to find my happy ballet place...

 

The second piece was an ABT premiere, Frederick Ashton's A Month in the Country.  The ballet has been 'freely adapted' from Turgenev's play (that's how it's described in the program).  Ashton choreographed the piece in 1976 and it has apparently been in the Royal Ballet's repertory for years, but has finally made it to ABT.  And I'm so glad it has.  It's SO lovely.  The physical design is gorgeous, and they beautifully use Chopin's music for piano and orchestra, to set up mood and tone.  The melancholy and spareness of Chopin's music matches the ballet's portrayals of love and loss.

 

David Hallberg, one of my uber-favorites, as you may recall, is Beliaev, the young tutor with whom all the female occupants of the household fall in love.  David's gorgeous line and pristine technique are on display here.  His acting is also first-rate.  You can see a man who is bewildered by all the attention given to him, but his ardor for the lady of the house takes him by surprise.  As all of these emotions happen, his dancing changes and grows.  The way he partners each of the ladies changes as well.  It's really a wonderfully danced, wonderfully acted, just wonderfully fully-realized performance.  And the heartbreaking ending crushed me.

 

Hee Seo, as the object of his affection, is also fantastic.  She's the lady of the house and is supremely bored with her life.  She's married to an older man, and has an admirer who just hangs around to be near her.  She's a woman who clearly needs to have the attention of every man in the room - when she discovers she has real feelings for this tutor, she is shocked out of her complacency.  Her dancing is also exquisite - delicate and fluid, with stunning feet and extension.  She was really lovely.  Sarah Lane, as her ward and rival, was a great contrast - all bubbly impulsiveness.  Her light quick footwork was engaging and she really expressed her youthfulness beautifully.  The other gents had much less dancing to do, but their acting was grand and the whole picture of this house was wonderfully depicted.  I just thought the whole thing was gorgeous.  Can't you tell? 

 

Happily, my photos are marginally better, thanks to the non-white costumes.  Anyway, when the lights came up and the dancing morons began their critiquing onslaught, I got up and went out to the lobby.  I just couldn't stand to listen to them for one more minute.  I tried to return to my seat at the ultimate last minute, but I couldn't avoid hearing the head moron criticize the tempo for the UPCOMING piece.  So...now he's psychic!  Ugh.  I just plugged my ears.  Literally.  I finally heard a woman behind me tell the kids to keep it down.  Perhaps my oncoming insanity scared her.

 

The third piece was Symphony in C, choreographed by Balanchine in 1947.  The score is by Bizet, which he apparently wrote when he was 17!  That's rather amazing.  Anyway, the ballet is in four movements, with each movement featuring two principal dancers, along with soloists and members of the corps.  Each movement has its own flavor and tempo.  The first movement has Stella Abrera and Eric Tamm, all sprightly and energetic.  The second movement has the divinely sublime Polina Semionova and Marcelo Gomes (hey, I finally saw Hallberg and Gomes on the same program - woo hoo!) in a splendid adagio.  Polina seemed to be en pointe for the entire movement, I don't know how she does it.  And Marcelo is just a glorious partner, strong and sure.  He didn't have a lot of solo dancing to do, but you knew he was there (he gave good curtain call, too).  The third movement was all leaping and charged personality by Natalia Osipova and Ivan Vasiliev.  I will say that the black danseur costume was oddly unflattering on poor Vasiliev, but my goodness, he was levitating all the same.  Gorgeous.  And the last movement was Simone Messmer and Jared Matthews, with crisp and precise turning.  Then, the ending, when all the principals, soloists and corps dancers come on stage for a thrilling finale!  It was spectacular!  The ladies were a tiny bit out of unison at one point, but I could live with it thanks to the sheer excitement they were generating.  The audience leapt to its feet and shouted their bravos before the curtain even came down.  I've read on some blogs that the ABT dancers don't compare to the NYCB dancers when they do Balanchine.  OK, that's reasonable.  But I found this production pretty darned terrific anyway.  There was an electric current and a verve about the dancing that was contagious, so bravo from me too.

 

Thankfully, the child dancers of the d*mned ran out of there during the curtain calls, presumably to go perform somewhere else and clearly perform much better than anyone currently dancing at ABT, so I didn't have to hear their post-show nonsense.  Thank heavens.  Though, during the last piece, I could hear the head moron humming aloud, presumably to help the conductor with the tempo.  I very nearly said STOP IT, but I just let it go and tried to lose myself in the ballet (which I generally could do).  I was happy to gather my thoughts afterwards, gather my belongings, and keep my cloud of ballet beauty around me until the next time.  But if I'm seated near ballet kids again, I'm going to ask to change seats.  Part of me wants to send an e-mail to managment to tell them about the bad behavior of their students, but since I'm unsure of which school they actually attend, I guess I'll refrain.  But I have Mr Super Moron's face emblazoned in my memory.  If he should ever make it to ABT, I'll know who NOT to be a fan of, because, as I'm sure you also recall, I can certainly hold a grudge...

 

 

From the archives - trip to Brussels and Bruges

Here's the continuation of reliving my trip to Europe in April, 2000.  I recently found my journals and I've scanned some photos (and borrowed some from the internet - if I had done this much research before I left, I would probably have better stories to tell now).  The journals have been tidied up, with a few pertinent observations from today.  Enjoy!  :)

April 30, 2000:  On to Brussels.  I decided to skip breakfast, in preparation for yet another train trip.  The train was quite nice, though the train station wasn't as lovely as Amsterdam's.  The trip was quiet, with lovely scenery, and lasted about two and a half hours.  GFFMO again spent most of his time engaged with the d*mn guidebook and not me.  But...not a hardship, I have to admit.  There's something very soothing about daydreaming while looking at beautiful European scenery from a train.

GFFMO was set 
on eating at a specific restaurant in the main square - one that was 
recommended by the d*mn guidebook [I'm sure you see a theme here.].  The train station was quite close to the main square, so we walked.  But - oh.my.god.  The square, or the Grand Place, was GORGEOUS!  Stunningly beautiful 15th century buildings as far as you can see!  I would've rather wandered around the square to soak in the lovely surroundings, but GFFMO was intent on eating.  Unfortunately, I was a sheep and joined him. 

This restaurant served bread to the table without charging a service fee, which was great.  I just had some of the bread and a delicious iced coffee [which, if I think about it, may have been my first iced coffee!]  After we finished, we decided to walk around Brussels for a bit, before our train to Bruges.  A shop in the Grand Place, Galler Chocolates, had some delectable looking treats, and also a reasonable international shipping fee, so I decided to get some and send them home to my dad.  I also got a couple for myself - I had never seen an Earl Grey tea chocolate confection before! 

We also had to make sure to get a look at the 
Mannequin Pis, or the little peeing boy statue.  Unfortunately, the statue wasn't wearing one of his 700 costumes.  But it was fun to get a look nonetheless.  We also wandered over to a stunning indoor shopping area - it looked like a palace!  Of course, since it was the day after Queen's Day, nothing was open, except for a record store, where we perused the racks and GFFMO indulged his love of Eurotrash music.

Back to the train station to head to Bruges.  The ride was very quick, a tad under an hour, and we arrived.  I would've liked to take a cab to the hotel, since dragging the suitcase was getting old, but we walked instead.  It was a bit of a hike, but at least it was a lovely hike.  :)  

The hotel was also quite lovely, and almost like a B & B in its size and atmosphere.  It was the Hotel Cordoneanier, and it was right by the main square, which was very convenient.  [the picture at right is the street the hotel was on] After checking in, we decided to explore the town.  And, yes, find a cafe that was recommended by the d*mn guidebook.  It was adorable, with some locals, for once.  I got some vegetable soup and some bread topped with amazing local cheese.  GFFMO got snails.  Blech.  The cafe was very inexpensive and pleasant, which was a soothing change of pace.  After dinner, we went to an ice-cream place recommended by you-know-who.  I tried a little bit of ice cream, but it was extremely rich and a little heavy for my two-trains-today tummy.  So, although GFFMO now wanted to head to a recommended beer hall, I decided to go back to the hotel for a pit stop.  I told GFFMO I would meet him at the beer hall.

Admittedly, I did get a little lost and it took me longer than expected to make it to the beer hall, but I in no way expected the tongue-lashing I received when I got there.  Apparently, I was ruining my travel companion's trip.  Who knew?!  I just sat there, dumbfounded, as he railed against my motion sickness issues, my dietary concerns, and my general unpleasantness as a travel companion.  Hmmmm.  Then he had the nerve to tell me that the worst part was that he had planned the perfect European experience for me and now it was being ruined.  That was enough.  I told him to stop talking, my experience was my experience, and though I appreciated all of his planning, there was no way to predict how things would shake down.  He should have his own perfect European experience and leave me to my own devices.  So...we agreed to disagree, but he got one last complaint in about how unfun it was for him to eat when I wasn't.  Well, that's not my problem, bub.  And...scene.  SO glad there was close to a week left on this funfest!  In all my dreams about my first trip to Europe, being yelled at in a beer hall in Bruges was not on my to do list, but at least the hostility was out in the open.

May 1, 2000:  Oh, gee, another holiday.  May Day is another day for shops to close - such great planning on someone's part.  Anyway, he left the hotel early to climb the belfry and have his perfect experience [I know, sarcasm much?]  I left the hotel a little later and just wandered around Bruges by myself.  And it was glorious.  It was a perfectly lovely walk through a gorgeous town.  It took a while to find a store that was open, but I finally found a store that sold Flemish lace.  I bought a piece for my mom and a tablecloth for my sister, because the exchange rate was extraordinarily good!  I should've gotten some lace for myself, but I was a dope and didn't. 

Later, I met GFFMO at the Church of Our Lady, a 16th century church that housed a Michelangelo, "Madonna and Child."  It also housed the tombs of Mary of Burgundy and Charles the Bold, alongside some Masonic paraphernalia and a chalice holding the blood of Christ.  All in one church!  It was stunning and I was very disappointed I couldn't take any photos inside, since my dad would've loved to have seen the Masonic stuff, though I did sneak this blurry photo of the Michelangelo. 

After the church, we went to City Hall, another glorious building, this one dating from 1376.  It had amazing models and layouts of Bruges, along with the history of their city and its government.  Very interesting, especially seeing how the city hasn't changed all that much in over 600 years.  Next, I needed a liedown, so I went back to the hotel while GFFMO went on a tour of a brewery.  I think my nap was the right thing to do.  :)

Refreshed by my nap, I wandered through town
until it was time to meet GFFMO at Bruge's Beguinhof.  This one was bigger and more touristy than the one we saw in Amsterdam, but it was still beautiful and peaceful.  Plus, it had a museum and a house open for viewing.  It was fascinating to go through the house and imagine living there.

We toured a 
couple of museums, 
the Groeningemuseum and the Memlingmuseum, which housed more Flemish art than I'd ever seen before [or since].  The buildings were both spectacular, dating from the 12th century, and the art was beautifully displayed.  The Van Eycks and the Memlings were especially lovely to me.   Then, to get another perspective on the town, we walked over to the outskirts of Bruges to see the windmills and the countryside.  WOW.  This was amazing.  The houses had stunning stained glass windows and spectacular woodworking details.  GFFMO and I had a truce and started kidding about stopping at a realtor's office to see how much the houses cost.  Truly, a beautiful beautiful spot. 

One last dinner recommended by the d*mn guidebook:  pancakes.  Actually, pancakes are always a good idea, so they were fine.  After pancakes, someone went out for some nightlife and someone went to sleep.  I'm sure you can guess who did what.

In closing, Bruges was spectacular - almost like a dream city.  Or like a storybook version of a European town.  It was clean, beautiful, enchanting and filled with warm-hearted generous people.  I dream of going back and experiencing it without a crabby cloud over my head.  Someday, I will.  Enjoy some more photos I took whilst walking around Brussels and Bruges.  You'll notice that my love of doorways, which I later indulged in Italy, seems to have started to take root in Bruges...

Next up - Paris.

Highs and Lows, all in one weekend

Sometimes, in New York, you can get the best and not-so-great that NY has to offer.  I had a busy weekend in that regard.  Friday, I needed to go to GMHC to do early check-in for Sunday's AIDS Walk.  It took forever to even get out of my building - the photo at left shows the crowd on the sidewalk.  Some days, I find the crowds really frustrating.  Then I walked over to Ninth Avenue to take the bus.  No bus arrived.  More frustration.  So I decided to walk to GMHC.  It wasn't a long walk, just not through the most pleasant parts of town, though Tenth Avenue has become pretty swanky in a couple of stretches (the photo is a view from Tenth Avenue).  When I finally got to GMHC, the room was packed with people trying to sign-in early.  There was mass chaos, and though the gals at the check-in table kept trying to emphasize the 'honor system,' some people were having none of it.  Waiting their turn wasn't really an option.  Sigh. 

 

I had decided beforehand that I would head to Chelsea Market after picking up my AIDS Walk stuff.  I love going there and there's a bus stop right there.  Of course, after waiting a half hour, no bus ever came.  I hate that.  There was one elderly gentleman who was trying to catch a cab and younger people kept darting out in front of him to steal it.  I was getting really frustrated watching - finally, one nice person shared their cab with the elderly gentleman (who should've just stolen it, but maybe that's me).  And I went to the subway, telling myself that if a train headed to Queens arrived first, that's where I'd go.  But no, a downtown train pulled into the station as I was walking through the turnstile, so I went to Chelsea Market.

 

Wow, there are a lot of new stores at Chelsea Market!  In fact, there were so many new stores, I became overwhelmed and suddenly exhausted.  So I just bought my imported lemon marmalade at my favorite Italian import shop, and some loose tea from a new spice and tea kiosk.  OH, and I also got a delicious blood orange lemonade from another new kiosk.  I guess I'll have to go back on a Summer Friday, so I'll have more energy to do some exploring.

Saturday, I was going to sleep in before I went to Industry Bar to meet an old friend who was visiting for a couple of days.  Of course, my idiot building super had other ideas.  He rang the doorbell a dozen times around 7am (I was sleeping very soundly).  Dazed and confused, I let him in with two contractors who wanted to inspect my leaky kitchen window.  I got the creeps from one of the contractors, so that wasn't a very nice way to start the day.  Thankfully, it was nice to see my old friend later on, and other old friends who I haven't seen in a long time.  I had a cocktail and the extremely young, extremely adorable bartender CARDED me.  I haven't been carded for years!  Clearly he was gunning for a larger tip.  The place was pretty empty, since this was early in the evening - it was more crowded later when I had to return (which you'll have to wait to read about)...

 

I actually won two tickets to see ABT's Saturday evening performance of Onegin, so I took a handsome friend and off we went.  The seats were in the orchestra, which was a treat, and the performance was fantastic.  Irina Dvorovenko was dancing the role of Tatiana, and this was her final performance with ABT.  Final performances are always exciting - I've been fortunate enough to see the final performances starring Julio Bocca and Susan Jaffe in the past, so I was excited to see this one, too.  Irina did not disappoint.  She danced spectacularly well, with incredibly nuanced passion and precision.  I think I've said this before, but it's amazing to me how different the same choreography can look on different dancers.  She was beautifully paired with Cory Stearns - he's a grand partner.  If his solo dancing could use a little more oomph, well, that will come in time.  But he looked spectacular and I especially liked how he used his remoteness as reverie.  Very nice. 

 

My photos are spectacularly bad, sorry.  My camera batteries died and my cell phone just can't get them right.  Anyway, at the curtain call, many current and former dancers came out to pay silent tribute to Irina, which was lovely.  Audience members were throwing bouquets, dancers brought more flowers.  There was a huge pile of flowers on the stage floor - I wonder what happened to them all!  Irina's husband and young daughter came out last and they were all very sweet together.  The audience was standing and cheering really loudly; I think it was a very nice send-off.  I think Irina will be missed, but, after seeing her in On Your Toes at City Center, I think she could have a career in musicals.  : ) 

 

After the performance, I went with my handsome friend to Duane Reade, to get more batteries and sunscreen for the AIDS Walk.  The first Duane Reade I went to didn't have any - what's up with that?!  So my friend got on the subway and I went to another Duane Reade.  (You'll see why I'm telling you all this in a bit.)  I wandered around the second Duane Reade for a bit, shopping, and picking up a few things.  When I got to the check-out line, I opened my purse and...no wallet.  My wallet was gone!  I started freaking out, which freaked out the poor teenage check-out clerk.  I stepped away and called one of my friends who had been at the bar and asked if he had seen my wallet there.  He said no.  So I ran over to the bar, which was now PACKED, and tried to get in to find my wallet.

 

The bouncer asked to see some ID before he'd let me in.  I said I didn't have a photo ID, because it was in my lost wallet!  He was very kind and took me inside to see what we could figure out.  The drunken man sitting at the booth where I was earlier in the evening would not move, so it was hard to see if anything was there.  The bouncer told me to call on Sunday, early, to talk to the day manager.  And he advised that I immediately cancel all of my cards, which I did.  Thank heavens I carry my Metrocard in a different spot than in my wallet.  So I got everything cancelled and went to the subway.

 

My train stops running at midnight, but I was at the station by 11:40 (would've been earlier if not for all the shopping and running around!), so I figured I was good.  No trains came.  No trains came.  The platform was packed and we were all waiting and waiting.  Two out of service trains went by.  No train.  I kept thinking, surely one has to come eventually!  No, no it doesn't.  Finally, I left the station around 12:20am and walked over to another station to take a different train.  And I waited forever for that train.  I was near tears by this time, thinking about having no cash and no photo ID.  I finally walked into my apartment about 1:15am.  Sigh.  So not happy to get home so late when I had to get up early for the AIDS Walk the next day.

 

AIDS Walk Sunday.  When I woke up, I looked at the weather app on my phone and it said there was a zero percent chance of rain until around 1pm, so I grabbed an umbrella, figuring I probably wouldn't need it.  Yeah, right.  It poured ALL DAY.  I had figured that since I didn't get any sunscreen the night before, that meant the day was going to be blazingly sunny.  Oh well.  I was glad to walk with two gorgeous men, and I was proud to have raised money for such a great cause, but golly, I hate being soaked to the skin like that.  It makes it hard to be cheerful.  I know everyone was wet, but yuck.  My socks were soaked, I made a squishing noise when I walked, I could wring water out of my jacket sleeves.  My arms hurt from holding an umbrella all day (I'm particularly afraid when my arms hurt - I'm terrified of lymphedema).  Sigh.  I tried not to complain too much during the Walk, since it was nice to have quality time with such gorgeous men.  And it WAS fun, because the AIDS Walk is always fun, but it was also, in a way, miserable.  The walk is always crowded - well, compound that by adding 10,000 umbrellas to the mix...  I was too miserable to go out for brunch afterwards (I hate sitting around when I'm all wet), so I took the subway home.  I guess you could say I was all wet, all around.  Oh, but I DID finish!  Woo hoo!  It's the first time I've finished in the past couple of years, so I'm glad of that.  And thankfully, my gorgeous pals both lent me some money so I could get some brunch on my way home.  I don't know what I'd do without my gorgeous generous pals.  I'll put more photos of the Walk at the end of the post.

 

I called the bar again when I got home, but the less-than-helpful person who answered the phone told me I need to come in to see if my wallet is there.  The Metropolitan Opera House was much kinder - they called me today to say no one had found my wallet (I had called them and left a message Saturday night as I was going back to the bar).  So fingers crossed it's at the bar.  What a pain in the patootie.  Fun and un-fun - that was my weekend.  I vote for all-fun from now on...